A Heck of a Drug
by Dave the Wordsmith
Summary: Hi, I'm Jazmine DuBois. I want to talk about a love of mine. A love that's a heck of a drug.


**A Heck of a Drug  
**

By** DaveTheWordsmith**

**Disclaimer: **Boondocks is owned by Sony Pictures Digital Inc. and Aaron McGruder. All the copyrights associated with Boondocks belong to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

**Note: **This short fic was inspired by the episode "The Fundraiser" and the song "My Flame" by Bobby Caldwell. I wanted to write something different than anything else before, so I talked to my weird and crazy imagination, waited for it to get to work, and this is the result. Hope you like it.

* * *

_"Oh, my flame_  
_ Some things will never change_  
_ I still hold your vision in my mind_  
_ Say you still love me_

_Oh, my love_  
_ Will I ever make you see_  
_ Oh, that somehow_  
_ You are still a part of me"_

-Bobby Caldwell, "My Flame"

* * *

Hi, it's me, Jazmine. Jazmine DuBois.

Guess what? I can't wait to see you again.

I hate when you have to go, but I guess that's a part of life.

I know it's only been a few hours since you left me. Two hours, thirty one minutes and forty seconds to be exact. I miss you that much, so much I keep track of how long we have been apart.

I don't know what it is about you. Maybe it's your looks, your devilish charm. Maybe it's because you can be so unpredictable. One day, you may be dark, mysterious and tempting. The next day: rich, light and easy. One thing I know for sure is you make me want you over and over again. There isn't a day, an hour, a minute, second, nanosecond or microsecond that passes by without a single thought of you that floats gently into my mind.

Oh, there it was. Another thought of you. The tingling sensation that ran through my body felt like lightning running through my veins. Now you see why I want you so much.

Okay I'll admit, sometimes, I hate your guts. When I say "hate", I mean the type of hate where I never want to see you again. This kind of hate infects my brain, heart and stomach like a virus. The sight of you is the equivalent of ipecac syrup: I want to vomit all the stuff in my gastrointestinal tract on the floor. Then, the next day, when we cross paths again, my mood completely changes. My intuition tells me it's your spirit, your inner essence. You don't even have to speak a word. A spell comes over me, you catch me in your rapture of love, and the cycle repeats itself.

I see why some people, mostly women, remain in horrible relationships. Eyes blackened, faces bruised and cut, arms and backs broken, even unfortunate burn marks are the result, yet they don't give up. They choose to stick with their loved one through thick and thin. Or they believe their mate will change and become a better person. Whatever it is, the power they have over that person is unbelievable. And that's how I feel about you. Whatever you do, I would still be there, through thick and thin. But I know you would never hurt me. Everything we've been through, your love is so unbelievable, so unexplainable, so unconditional, so unremarkable, so amazing, I feel like I'm in Heaven. I hope you feel the same way about me.

Every moment I take a breath, your wonderful essence, every moment, whether good or bad, fills my spirit and makes me feel so good. Before I go to bed, my knees hit the floor. Hands put together, eyes closed, I thank God for making you, creating you, molding you and crafting you into something so wonderful, so beautiful and so giving. When I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me. Deep down, once I could possess the ability to finally sample you, have a real, long taste of you, I felt my life would be complete.

Mommy and daddy warned me not to have too much of you. They told me you weren't good for me, and that too much of you would make me sick of you. I laughed at their silly words. They think because I'm only thirteen, I don't know what true love is. Will Smith was right: parents just don't understand. There's never too much of a good thing. I laugh at people who say such a thing. It's like a person who thinks too much money is a bad thing. They haven't had enough money to know the truth. This isn't to say my mommy and daddy are poor. They make a lot of money, I'm sure. We live in Woodcrest, duh. My point is…some things were made to be taken in large amounts. Like you, my love of the loveliest loves of all the loves in the whole wide world.

Oh yeah, my friend Cindy likes you. She won't admit it. When she was younger, she even loved you. Unbelievable, huh?

She tried to fit in, like, act her best to show feelings for you. Honest devotion, tender love and care, unconditional love, that kind of stuff. She wouldn't dare mess with no one else. Why do you think a few years ago she couldn't stop talking to you? But she won't tell you. She'll take that to the grave. The last thing Cindy McPhearson wants to do is show any weakness.

Sadly, a few weeks after she tried to get your attention the best way she could, she gave up. She didn't have what it takes to be committed. I guess she didn't want to be your, as she calls it, "ride or die chick". She couldn't cut the mustard. She didn't have the qualifications. She wanted someone with more edge, more mystery, I guess, and left you for someone else. I assume she became intimidated by your one-of-a-kind qualities that only certain people can take. I'm one of those people. I know so, because I love you so much.

As a matter of fact, I still remember when we met yesterday afternoon like…well…it was yesterday. When the doorbell rang, my temperature raised so much I should have dropped dead. I knew it was you who stopped by. My heart fluttered rapidly in my chest. Sweat formed puddles in my palms and on my neck. The desire for you was so strong. I leaped out of bed, down the stairs without touching one step. I zoomed past my parents in the living room as if I were the roadrunner from the Looney Tunes. They were busy talking to themselves about grown-up stuff. I didn't really care. All I heard from them was the message that you arrived. All I cared about was you, waiting at the dining room table. I could have crippled my parents the way I almost knocked them over just to see my love.

And oh my God, there you were. You looked so handsome sitting there. I know you don't like to show any emotion so I did it for you. When I wrapped you in my arms and kissed you for those brief seconds, I wished it could last forever like a Polaroid picture. I love you so much. It's just a shame you have to go. I told mommy and daddy we would be in our room if they wanted us.

After I slammed my bedroom door shut, without any complaints or restraints, you let me take you in, undress you slowly, one piece at a time. As I became older, it was so easier to do, even when we wanted to share our love in the dark. I only wished we could spend more time every day together, but like they say, best friends must part. When we said our last goodbyes and we kissed our last kiss ever so gently on the lips, I ran over to my bed and threw myself face first into my pillow. I cried so hard. I heard mommy come in my room and ask me "What's wrong?" But I couldn't tell her. I couldn't admit what her and daddy wanted to tell me. The one thing they knew but I would never in a million years say out loud.

That you, a king-size _Hershey's Extra Creamy Chocolate & Caramel_ bar, are a **heck** of a drug.

...


End file.
